


Listless

by MystxMomo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MystxMomo/pseuds/MystxMomo
Summary: Kamukura/Komaeda drabble collection, where it contains a little bit of everything, and nothing is connected unless mentioned otherwise.(Might also have the occasional Hinata/Komaeda, you know just when I'm in the mood.)
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 18
Kudos: 189





	1. Future Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Kamukura and Komaeda are the first two caught by the Future Foundation trio. Luckily, they.. seem to get along. Kind of.
> 
> Rated G, for (g)ust implied.

“You are _lucky_ to have caught that one first…” 

“Oh?” Kirigiri tilts her head, “Might I ask why?”

“Yes…” Kamukura stares up at the screen, eyes analytical and sharp, “He’s cunning, manipulative, and generally speaking the tides sway in his favor. He could have led the Remnants, were it not for his fixation on hope and overwhelmingly submissive nature,” Kamukura sighs, and it’s the first sign of emotion he’s shown since walking through those doors, “Keep an eye on him. If he is here, it is of his own volition.”

Kamukura is about to go on. However, he pauses too long, because;

“Ah!” A familiar voice, “To be praised by the great Kamukura-kun… Today truly must be my lucky day!” 

“.. Komaeda, do not patronize me,” Kamukura does not turn around, when he greets him.

“Servant!” The mans voice is chipper. The intent is anything but.

“I see no collar.” 

“What- Oh,” Komaeda touches his neck, barren but bruised, “They made me take it off...”

“I see,” Kamukura reaches up to touch one of the portraits on the screen, and drag it down onto the map, “A shame. It suited you quite well.”

Komaeda’s eyes light up at the praise. It seems to be enough to tide him over, because- “What are we doing in here?”

“Disclosing the locations of the other remnants.”

Komaeda’s eyes glance over the screen. Two pictures at the bottom. Himself and Kamukura. The other portraits, thirteen of them, have been placed about the map. 

“You’re missing one,” He notes, conversationally.

“Unfortunately, even I am at a loss as to where to find The Imposter,” Kamukura tilts his head up at the map again, like the location of the final remnant will manifest under his gaze.

....

“Ah. Yes. Actually, Komaeda, please come over here.”

“Servant.” He corrects again, more forcefully. However, the smile lingers on his face, and trots over to stand at Kamukura’s side.

Kamukura reaches over to grab his shoulder, grip on it light, “Close your eyes,” 

Komaeda obeys. Because of course. He spins him, carefully guiding him with his hand. As he does so, he gives a vague gesture to the other occupants of the room. As if to say  _ See? Submission. _

This was a point that had been previously uncontested. He still needed to make it, somehow.

“Alright,” He says, “Tap the board.”

Komaeda stops. Woozes in his spot, fixed by a hand against the small of his back, and without so much as looking taps the map at random.

It springs to life.

**Los Angeles, USA**

“There. That is where you will find them,” Kamukura tells them, voice back to the stark monotone it had sat at when he arrived. Beside him, Komaeda has stabled himself on his arm. Kamukura has not moved his hand.

“You can’t be serious,” Togami stares at the bored, with some level of disbelief.

“Oh, I am. It might be worth checking the exact coordinates for them.” 

Kirigiri sighs, “It’s... worth a try.” Still. Even she seemed put off by the idea, and the look she gets is nasty, “Do  _ you _ have any idea’s, then?”

“No, but we’re not just going to make a trip to the states because there’s a  _ chance  _ he got it right.”

“This is the one that dresses like you, you know. The sooner we find them-”

“I  _ know _ .”

Their voices are hushed. Kamukura is unamused. He turns his attention to Komaeda, who’s still gazing up at the screen with wide, calculate eyes. 

“Our work here is done,” Kamukura tilts his head, “Komaeda.”

“ _ Servant _ ,” He hisses the word out this time, displeasure finally beginning to slip through the cracks of his hollow grin. 

Despite this, he still follows the other to the door.

“Hm,” Kamukura hums in thought, “ _ Delusive _ .”

Komaeda laughs, and it’s sincere, “Anything but!” 

  
  



	2. Dirty Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kamukura needs a mole in the remnants, and Komaeda really wants his dick. Luckily, they’re both good at getting what they want.
> 
> First part is SFW, Second part is like. It has the [chef hand] Implications.  
> They're connected. Kinda.

**X Service**

“I see… and the Yakuza?”

“He seems to have swayed Tsumiki-san onto his side. In no due part to owning _her_ eye,”

“Hm,” Kamukura could have told him that. He does not mention this, nor the inherent irony that comes from the arm currently tucked behind his back, “Troublesome… Anything else?”

Komaeda pauses, “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

“I see..”

“It can’t be helped. With as much infighting as there has been, they’ve become more aware of what they say around who,” Komaeda tilts his head, “Actually there _was…_ Its, nothing I’m sure you’re not aware of already, Kamukura-kun, but,” Komaeda starts, pauses. Wrestles with the information.

“... If it is of concern to you, I would like to hear it,” Kamukura is a patient man. He allows Komaeda to collect himself.

“They’re growing suspicious of you, again,” Komaeda’s smile stays airy as ever, “I have caught Souda-san and Kuzuryu-san talking about attempting to keep better track of you on more than one occassion. They’ve attempted to enter your room recently” That smile turns to ice, “ _Unsuccessfully_.”

“Hm,” Kamukura says this one with more force. Komaeda gazes up at him from his kneel, just as patient as he’d been as he works through the new information, “You are correct. Nothing I was unaware of, yet critical to have confirmed,” Quietly, Kamukura reaches down to touch his fingers to Komaeda’s cheek, letting his thumb brush against an old bruise that stubbornly remains.

Komaeda tilts his head into the touch while it lasts. Kamukura is not unaware of that. He allows it, his own touch lingering as a result.

“You’ve done well, Komaeda. Thank you for your service. You may rise.”

Komaeda doesn’t trot forward to grab his arm, per-say. However, it is the first thing he does when he’s straightens himself out. Anyone else would have been thrown off the roof. 

However, because it’s Komaeda… he simply pulls away, carefully bringing his arm with him.

Komaeda shoots him a dirty look.

“Stop looking betrayed, you will be rewarded soon.” 

The look gets dirtier. 

Kamukura ignores him, “I... may need you to stay and keep watch a while longer.”

“Oh! I see..” Komaeda smiles, like he hadn’t realized that there was still business to discuss. There’s always more business to discuss. 

Komaeda sighs. It’s dreamy.

“Anything you wish, Kamukura-kun. I shall obey.”

  
  


**Xx Reward**

**BANG BANG BANG**

"KAMUKURA!"

"Mm.. _Kamukura-kun-_ Maybe-” He bites down. Komaeda’s sentence breaks with a moan.

**BANG BANG BANG**

"KAMUKURA IZURU YOU _MOTHERFUCKER_ , OPEN THE DOOR."

"Maybe I should open the door and-"

"He will leave on his own time. We are busy.” He speaks against skin. Komaeda shivers under his touch.

_How easy.. Pitiful. Boring._

**BANG BANG BANG**

"KAMUKURA I SWEAR TO GOD-"

“R-Really, I can tell them-” Komaeda’s voice halts in the sharp yelp as Kamukura bites onto his shoulder, “Tell them you’re out!”

“Mm…”

It was not actually possible for Kamukura to feel annoyance. Somehow, despite this, the banging is beginning to get annoying.

"Actually. Komaeda. Move from my lap."

Komaeda blinks, but he’s long since torn from the daze of arousal he'd been in. Quickly, he scrambles from the pretty, propped up position he’d taken on Kamukura’s lap. He realizes Kamukura’s aim far sooner than Kamukura expects him to, because the second he pulls himself off the bed Komaeda is hurrying to hide himself under the covers.

“You don’t have to- “ Kamukura turns and stares. Komaeda changes his words midsentence, fumbles, “Okay. Maybe you have to!”

It was not possible for him to feel annoyance. It was also not possible for him to feel shame. So when he answers the door, it's with his hair fussed in a million directions, shirt falling off his arms, and pants hanging from his hips. There’s bite marks on his collarbone, and scratches on his arms, and he can't even muster up more then a tilt of the head when he see’s the very bloodied and dirt covered man in front of him.

"Yes. I am in," He says, in the same apathetic monotone as ever.

Kuzuryu goes to speak. Takes in his appearance. Halts, “What... the hell are you doing?”

Kamukura does not answer. This seems to frustrate him more.

“Fine- Know what? Doesn’t matter. Guess what jackass, you fucked up!”

"I do not fuck up," Kamukura should not have the ability to loose his patience, yet so frequently he finds the remnants testing it, "I purposefully cut the wiring in your getaway car, because your plan was doomed for failure from the start and you were wasting my time, energy, and talent by involving me. Is that what this is about, Yakuza?"

A color of emotions flies across Kuzuryu's face. At first anger, then disbelief, and then back to anger, "You MOTHERFUCKER."

He dodges the fist before it hits. Its ceremonial at best, "Yakuza. For what it's worth." The Yakuza narrows his eyes at him, "When I do not answer the door, it is because I am busy, and you are not worth the time it takes to interrupt what,” Who, “I am doing. Next time, please at least attempt to control your rage long enough to realize that."

The Yakuza screams and the fist comes again. Kamukura dodges. Again.

He is unimpressed. He hopes his expression portrays this well enough.

“Is that all?”

“Fuck yourself Kamukura, I’m going to have Hanamura poison your goddamn meal.”

“I suppose that is fair.” 

How exciting. He’s never been poisoned before.

“Fuck you,” The Yakuza spits, one more time, before turning heel and.. Limping away. Kamukura almost wishes he’d been there to see what had happened. 

He closes the door instead of lingering on the thought.

Komaeda pulls himself up, unburying himself from the small pile of blankets and clothing he’d been tucked under, "He won’t be happy, later," He points out, really with far more concern then needed. 

"He will survive,” Kamukura sits himself on the bed, "As will you, so long as you don’t pick off my food."

"... This is why they don’t trust you, you know" Komaeda props his chin up on his hand, seeming to take a very sudden and renewed interest in staring over his figure. No bother. 

“Well. They _are_ correct not to,” He supplies. It is, in fact, incredibly helpful, “Though, I do not see how this is relevant.”

“Ah hah… you’re _unbelievable_ , sometimes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fever dreamed this one into existence, I think  
> Happy new years.


	3. Medication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what this would rate as, but there's nothing inherently sexual so we're going with T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this one looks incomplete it's because uh it is kinda. It's a bit from a longer fic I'm working on that I decided to trim out because it no longer fit the vibe of it. But I'm still partial to it, so. Hence. Small drabble fic.

Kamukura presses a finger into his mouth, "Swallow," He orders.

Servant responds by chewing on his finger.

"Swallow." He orders again, stern this time, "I know you can dry swallow pills. Swallow."

Servant narrows his eyes at him, and chews harder.

"You are obedient in all other things," Kamukura says, places more pressure on his tongue, "Why is this the one thing you choose to fight me on."

The question is rhetorical. Kamukura already knows what his response will be. Servant answers it sincerely, despite this.

"Kamukura-kun's talents and benevolence is wasted on the likes of myself!" He chirps it around his finger, and it comes out chopped in a mix of syllables and verbs. 

" _ Benevolence _ " If Servant hadn't known any better, he'd dare say the echo of the word was mocking, "You are of no use to me dead, Komaeda. It is as simple as that. Take your medication,  _ now _ ."

Servant... Wants nothing more than to be useful. Kamukura knows this, and (to Servants selfish, sinful glee) takes advantage of it frequently. 

There was truly no greater euphoria then Kamukura’s approval.

He struggles with an internal battle. One side weighed with the knowledge of his inherent, undeniable worthlessness, the hope that will overcome despair when he survives despite that.. and the other struggling with the idea of disobeying Kamukura once again, twice in a row.

Servant eventually swallows the pill for him. By then, the coating has long since dissolved on his tongue, and it tastes grimy and bitter. Gross. Nothing short of what he deserves, for a gift as great as life.

Kamukura takes a moment to wipe off the silva from his finger, and Servant almost apologizes for dirtying him. However, it’s hardly the most repulsive fluid of his Kamukura has had on his hand, and Kamukura has already moved on to digging up the next pill bottle.

“I... don’t understand,” Servant mumbles, rubbing his arm

Kamukura’s gaze feels like a weight on his form. Heavy, and unmoving, just out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s the point of this, Kamukura-kun?” He asks, blankly.

“...” Kamukura looks away, “It is as I said. I have no use for a corpse,”


	4. Blood // Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komaeda Despairs.

Kamukura grabs the shower nozzle and sprays the first bit of cold water that comes out directly at Komaeda’s chest.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Komaeda giggles to himself, mumbles something incoherent. Kamukura thinks he might have caught the word Hope tucked away in the ramblings. 

Komaeda has lost himself to despair tonight.

Despair cycles always left him dazed for hours at a time. Instead of allowing it to run its course, his desperate and unyielding attempts to fight it left it lingering longer than most others. Feeding itself with an overzealous and hungry passion. He would come back to eventually, failing to hide exhaustion behind his mask.

(… It bores him, really. How expected these things have become. How much of an inconvenience it's become.)

He sighs and sprays Komaeda again, this time with more calculation. Blood runs off and stains the water red. It is not Komaeda’s blood. The worst of Komaeda’s wounds were scrapes on his knees and palms, surface level and shallow. Despite this, enough has soaked into his hair to leave it in red clumps. The smell is overwhelming, and iron. The texture is gummy. 

Quieting down, Komaeda leans his head into Kamukura’s chest. Soaks a spot crimson. He’d regret that in the morning. Kamukura can already predict the babble, word for word, if he is careless enough to let him see it (“I’ve dirtied Kamukura-kun’s clothing? Oh, no- I can’t believe I was so careless!”) and then (“What kind of Servant am I, making my master take care of me...“) or (“Really, I can fix this for you, I’ll clean it, I promise!“) or even (“Please, just punish me for the inconvenience I’ve caused.”)

Well. All four is most likely.

But for now, Komaeda settles into place with ease. Find’s... _comfort_ in his presence. Kamukura, for better or for worse, lets him. 

(He never knows what to do with his arms here. At first settles them, stiff on his shoulders. Then against his sides. Both feel awkward, and foreign, and eventually he resolves to allow them to fall awkwardly to his sides.

What a nuisance...)

“Komaeda,” He tells him, blankly, “You need cleaned up.”

There is no response. 

“Komaeda,” He tries again, knows it won’t work. Komaeda’s hands grip at his shirt, hard enough that his knuckles turn white, “You’ll come out of it faster when the blood is gone.”

The man sobs in response.

He will pretend he hadn’t heard, when the morning comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth be told, I wrote this half asleep and still don't know how to feel about this one. Not in a disconfidence in my writing, because I like how this reads. However, I'm still experimenting with how I want to handle writing about Despair as this like.. infectious and consuming thing? As well as Kamukura's general disconnection from a lot of these things. I'll probably keep messing with stuff like this, so if a few more like this end up getting thrown at the wall thats just how it be.


	5. Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Servant Survives.

Servant wakes up to iron on his tongue and a figure looming over him.

"Kamukura-sama?" 

Kamukura just sort of... blinks down at him, head tilts in such a way that the ends of his hair brush through the still pool of blood under him and paint the ground in a thick line. Servant wants to grimace. Not at how much blood that has pooled around him, but rather that Kamukura is the one stepping in it. Dirtying himself with it. 

"You are alive," Kamukura mumbles, like it's somehow news to him.

" Ah-ha, " the laugh on his lips is sincere, but it sends a wave of pain brushing through his head, "I suppose I am!"

Kamukura just  _ stares _ . 

Normally Servant would never question Kamukura. However, he's.. A little out of it right now. The main thing in his mind is the pain rooted in his rib cage, against the back of his skull. The incessant focus to keep the smile gracing his lips, to not look like as much of an inconvenience to the man in question. 

"What are you doing?" He manages to slur out, and it feels sort of numb on his tongue. 

"..." He can see even with his foggy his vision has gotten, the way Kamukura's eyes fixate, "You always stay alive," He repeats, in the same bland tone. 

"Ah, well. Thats just my luck, isn't it!"

Kamukura does not answer 

"I'm not use to only having one arm. It's almost exciting!" Servant supplies for him, joyously, with a burst of energy he didn't know he had in him, "I keep spilling things and breaking dishes. Some of those looked antique. Kuzuryuu-san was really angry, wouldn't you say?" He laughs and rattled on, because it's the only thing he can do right now. Kamukura takes a seat just out of reach of his blood. Like being so close to the mess doesn't actually bother him, "I suppose I deserve nothing less, but he could have at least-"

"Be quiet."

Servants teeth click together with how quickly his jaw snaps together. 

They sit like that, for a minute. Then another. Through the fog, Servant is hyper aware of the way Kamukuras's gaze burns into him, studies him, analyzes him. Like he has any interest in him whatsoever.

Servant is working up the energy to move himself, to clean up his mess and get out of Kamukura's way. Kamukura must be working on an entirely different level then he is, because his next order is not to clean, or even to rot. It's just a soft-

"Sleep."

Servant blinks. His ears ring. 

It's not the order he was expecting, but it's not one he's going to fight. 

\--

A concussion, a split skull, a broke nose, three broken ribs, two stab wounds to the side. 

And yet Luck lives another day.

Kamukura watches Luck fall asleep on an order, and allows his gaze to fixate on his wounds, mind wandering in a silent, apathetic haze. 

His head tilts. 

If Luck wakes up, he will take him.

...

Hm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is.. Just a Warm up. Since I haven't written in a few days.


	6. "Please stop petting the test subject..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please stop petting the test subject..." I mean who is better than Matsuda, Komaeda and Kamukura for this one? // a-aliwond on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this one is just like?? An au where Komaeda finds Kamukura in the early stages of the Kamukura Project because he is a VERY lucky boy.  
> I DO actually have an au like that, but this one was for a "ridiculous sentence prompt" list and the requested characters WERE in fact Matsuda, Komaeda, and Kamukura

“His hair really is getting long..”

“Yeah, jackass bites anyone that gets close. Myself included…” The Neurologist doesn’t bother to look up at the two of them when he speaks, fingers busy fumbling between files and pages. The folder he’s looking for is not there. It has long since been lost to the abyss of his desk in collateral damage of his work flow.

Kamukura does not bother to tell him this. Kamukura takes mild enjoyment in being a nuisance to him.

“Mm. I don’t know. He seems fine with me,” Luck observes him, but the gaze is easy, and quick, “Maybe if Matsuda-kun had a gentler presence Kamukura-kun would let him approach!” He takes a moment to lace his fingers through his hair, careful not to catch any knots when he combs through it. He works easily around the bandage on his head. Kamukura is.. grateful…

"Maybe if Matsuda-kun-“ the Neurologist mocks the words under his breath, then, “Bite me you human health risk, he just knows you’re not suppose to be here.“ 

Luck laughs. It’s right next to his ear, and the sound rattles around in his skull like a….. _Hurts_. But Luck rarely means any harm, so he lets it go with a flicker of his gaze.

”.. Long hair is.. preferable…“ Kamukura finally manages to work out, given the lull in their conversation. He’s still focusing on the flicker of files, the fingers in his hair, the drone of the AC, the buzz of the light, the way the Neurologist stills in his searching.

“Oh. You’re awake,” He notes, bemused.

“…” They were being loud. Of course he was awake. Luck’s hand doesn’t still in his hair despite this news. He imagines that Luck has known his state of consciousness from the start.

The Neurologist finally whips around, hand on his head.

"Look, you’re going to need to come back tomorrow-” He stops. Stalls. Observes the entanglement of fingers in his hair, Then with a new passion, “Stop petting the test subject. He’s not a dog.”

He doesn’t know what kind of look Luck shoots the man, but it results in him shifting to wrap his arms around him instead. 

“Really, It’s fine. I can wait,” Luck insists. His tone is soft, as always. It conceals his agenda well, but doesn’t fool the Neurologist in the slightest. At least, if the sharp, judgemental look leveled at them says anything about it.

“At least don’t do,” A vague hand wave, “That around me.”

Luck doesn’t move. 

“.. You were being loud,” Kamukura finally mentions, leveling his gaze at the Neurologist. His eyes raise to the ceiling like theres a particularly interesting spot he wants to study on it, and then shoulders fall.

“You know what? Nevermind. Whatever. Do whatever you want. I’ll just exist here, I guess, like the fucking fool I am,” The Neurologist flops back in his chair, the force of it sending it wheeling and the sound of the wheels scraping the floor scratching against his ears. Kamukura allows his body to relax against Lucks, eyes closed and form slack. If the Neurologist has anything to say about it this time, he does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [From my tumblr tags because they're important]  
> I likened early stage kamukura to a supercompter running on windows visa the otherday. It takes him a few minutes to process everything because of how much is going on in there, and He's not entirely there yet. And also very hyperaware of the world around him. Everything hurts and he's not use to it. 
> 
> Also I'll fight for the belief that Kamukura bit people when he was first here because it's funny to me.
> 
> ... I've thought a lot about early Kamukura.


	7. Future Foundation... 2!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something quick I wrote because it was raining and I was in... a mood.

Neither of them were use to feeling safe

It had become something unremarkable. Danger was commonplace, every step a hazardous one and every action needing preplanned and prepared. Their life had been one of instability and uncertainty.

It was ironic, how quickly the unpredictable become predictable. The bleak dichotomy of hope and despair, he supposed.

"It feels nice to be clean again!" Komaeda says, smile large on his face, "I still miss my collar, though... I do hope they give it back to me."

There's a line around his neck, where the edges of metal had dug into his flesh and branded his place as a servant. At the time, it had been satisfying. Now, looking at it, Kamukura is.. unsure of how he feels about it. It's just another mark among the various scars and bruises on his skin, blending in to dilute it's meaning.

"Mm," Kamukura supplements, but otherwise says nothing. Komaeda takes a moment to toy with the edge of his sleeve, though his gaze does not leave Kamukura. As though expectant.

"... They won't be happy if they figure out I left my room," Komaeda sighs like this knowledge is sincerely something heavy to him, as though he actually cares about their rules. He does not. Komaeda's loyalties lie strictly to his master, and for that Kamukura is grateful.

"It will be fine," Kamukura tells him. It's always fine. Kamukura makes sure of it, "Come here."

Komaeda lights up at the order, as though he still expects to need to ask for permission. He does not. He has not had to for a while. Komaeda's hair is still somewhat damp, smelling like artificial honey and lavender. A bit of water soaks into the shoulder of Kamukura's sleep shirt. He pays it no mind. It is a small price to pay for comfort, he supposed.

He still doesn't feel safe. Though the door is locked and they're on the other side of the room, he is distinctly aware of the way the future foundation breaths down their necks. What quiet a few members would do to see them dead. They weren't safe by a technicality.

It weighed differently then normal. It weighed easy.

He shifts so that Komaeda is laying down between him and the wall, to tuck them both further in on the bed. Komaeda follows his lead like a ragdoll, compliant and easy. They've been here before on more then one occasion, have pushed a bed up against the wall and taken to making themselves as small and hided as physically possible.

Kamukura has always insisted on taking the side away from the wall. It had, perhaps, saved them more then once.

"Kamukura-kun," Komaeda's good hand finds his own, fingers lace without protest, "You're going to sleep tonight, right?"

It comes out as a question. He doesn't bother justifying it with an answer.

Tonight, he will pretend to be safe. He shifts the blanket so that it covers both of them, masks their forms in the darkness and blocks out the dangers of the outside world. He tucks Komaeda’s head under his chin and eases himself into warmth, focusing his attention on the obvious rise and fall of the others breath.

Yes. Just tonight. Just tonight, they are safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Tbhtbh I take requests @ Mystxmomo on tumblr, which I will then sometimes do when I am bored.


End file.
